


Summer Bummer

by sock_in_my_drawer



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Anal Fingering, Dubious Consent, Eddie loves muscle cars, Feminization, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Patrick Hockstetter is His Own Warning, The Bowers Gang is alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25377346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sock_in_my_drawer/pseuds/sock_in_my_drawer
Summary: “You spying on me, Kaspbrak?”Eddie shook his head, stumbling to his feet. “N-no! I was just, uh, I was...”Patrick blew out a thick cloud of smoke straight into Eddie's face and flicked the ash from his cigarette on his sneakers. “Peeping through the fence like a little creep?”Eddie flushed all the way up to his scalp. “I was just looking at your stupid car, okay?” he snapped, trying not to gag as he shook the slug of ash off of his shoe. “It’s kinda cool.”Or: Eddie takes a ride in Patrick's Firebird.
Relationships: Patrick Hockstetter/Eddie Kaspbrak
Comments: 33
Kudos: 101





	Summer Bummer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [patrick_hotstetter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrick_hotstetter/gifts).



> Patrick x Eddie is so rare that I wanted to write a smutty little fic about them between my other projects (sequels to the soul bond AU and Afternoon Delight), mostly for [patrick_hotstetter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrick_hotstetter/pseuds/patrick_hotstetter) who also beta read this for me <3
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @ sockinmydrawer.tumblr.com
> 
> **There are detailed warnings at the bottom. I'm always willing to add additional tags and warnings, just let met know if you need something tagged :)**

Eddie's summer was turning into a complete flop.

It was almost the Fourth of July and he’d barely left his house, both Richie and Bill had abandoned him to go work as counselors at some moldy, bug infested summer camp at Pushaw Lake, and his mother had confiscated his bike after he'd flown over the handlebars in the Up-Mile Hill. He hadn't broken any bones and the scab on his chin was barely even visible anymore, but his mother continued to treat him like his head was about to roll off his shoulders. He had to get out of the house, because one more day - no, an hour, a minute - spent inside the prison that was his room would have him climbing up the walls.

Eddie grabbed one of the comics on his night stand and stomped downstairs with a determined bounce in his steps.

"Where are you going, Eddie-bear?" his mother called from the den, eyeing Eddie over the TV Guide in her hands.

Her honeyed voice was like a record scratch, the kind you heard when everything went to shit.

Eddie poked his head in through the door and waved his comic at her. "Gonna read in the backyard, Ma. The weatherman said there’s no pollen in the air today.”

His mother glared at the sliver of summer sky that was visible through the sheer curtains behind her chair. Her mouth pulled into a sour pinch, but Eddie could tell she had no real argument to keep him inside.

"Alright, sweetie. But remember, you're not allowed to leave the yard."

"Yeah, yeah…" Eddie grumbled, rolling his eyes the moment his back was turned.

Their overgrown garden didn't offer much entertainment, not since his mother decided the swingset the previous owners had left behind was a giant safety hazard and had some men from their church come and take it down. Eddie slumped into an old wicker chair on the back porch and flipped through his comic, the panels so familiar that he didn’t even need to read the speech bubbles to know each and every line. He missed the way Richie always read them in his dumb Voices and wondered if he and Bill were having fun making macaroni art with a bunch of ten year olds.

At least his friends were earning their own money. Eddie was still dependent on the small allowance his mother paid him after he’d completed his weekly chore list, provided that she was in a good mood and Eddie brought back a receipt for every little thing he spent his money on. If she only knew about the many schemes Richie had cooked up over the years to allow Eddie to waste his allowance on movies and arcade games and all things unhealthy and forbidden.

He raised his eyes from his comic when the buzz of Mr. Cooper’s lawn mower drowned under a sudden ear-splitting guitar riff. It was followed by a cacophony of instruments and a hellish wail about the approaching apocalypse.

It seemed Patrick Hockstetter was home from summer school.

Eddie put his comic down and turned his eyes to the half-rotten fence that separated their yard from the Hockstetter house. Patrick’s Pontiac was parked in front of the open garage and the volume on the stereo was cranked up to eleven.

They'd been neighbors for as long as Eddie could remember and his mother had always told him to keep his distance from Patrick, because _that Hockstetter boy isn’t right in the head, Eddie, you stay away from him and that house. Something bad happened there_.

Everyone in Derry knew about the tragic death of Avery Hockstetter back in '79 and Eddie sure as hell didn’t need his mother to tell him there was something wrong with Patrick. He'd fled from Bowers and his goon squad often enough to know that Patrick was the most unhinged of them all, his leering smiles and the sinister sound of his aerosol can reminding Eddie of a rattlesnake.

The blare of metal music continued to drown out every other sound in the neighborhood, including Mr. Cooper's angry complaints from across the street. And maybe it was the sheer monotony of the past couple of weeks, or maybe Eddie had a secret deathwish, but he slipped off the porch and moved across the yard in a low crouch.

There was a loose board in the fence somewhere behind one of the unkempt rose bushes, close to the spot where Eddie had once buried his collection of inhalers before digging them up two days later. He crept behind the thorny branches, tugging at the boards until he found the one he was looking for. The peeling paint fell off in flakes as Eddie pulled the board aside, just enough to peek into the Hockstetters’ front yard.

It was like a small junkyard with a row of moldy lawn chairs on the front porch and an actual couch by the driveway with half of its fillings spilling out. Eddie had rarely seen Mrs. Hockstetter step out of the house, but it was clear that she didn’t have a green thumb, because the only flowers in her garden were the runty little dandelions pushing through the cracks in the pavement.

Eddie dropped to his knees, his ass sticking up as he pushed his head through the gap in the fence for a better view of the garage. And there was Patrick, rummaging through a collection of tools and cleansers on the shelves that lined the walls around Mr. Hockstetter’s station wagon.

Eddie watched him with envious eyes. He wished their own garage had a cool collection of power tools and guy stuff instead of old periodicals and moth-eaten clothes Eddie hadn’t fit in since he was ten.

Patrick strolled out with a jar of wax and a clean rag, the soles of his loosely laced boots dragging against the pavement. His hair was slicked back against his scalp and the cigarette tucked behind his ear reminded Eddie of the bad boys in the old black and white movies he sometimes watched with his mother. The ratty button-up Patrick wore over his wifebeater looked like it hadn’t seen the inside of a washing machine in a month and Eddie wrinkled his nose, disgusted by Patrick’s unkempt appearance even as he wondered what it would feel like not to give a shit about every little stain on his own clothes.

Patrick lit his cigarette and began to apply the wax in a meticulous manner, his touch almost like a caress as he went over the hood inch by inch. And the car was beautiful, a '77 Firebird, just like the one in Smokey and the Bandit with a giant eagle taking flight on the coal black hood. It was almost absurd that a creep like Patrick Hockstetter was in possession of something so beautiful while Eddie was stuck riding in his mom’s shitty old Pacer.

He watched Patrick wax his car and pictured himself behind the wheel, speeding out of Derry with his friends and never looking back. His daydreaming came to a jarring halt when the front door of the Hockstetter house flew open so hard that it almost fell off its hinges.

“What the hell have I told you about that infernal noise?” Mr. Hockstetter bellowed over the music, pointing his meaty finger at Patrick from the porch.

He was a big man with a balding head and a face carved with miserable lines. Eddie’s stomach pulled into a knot as he remembered a scary encounter in the hardware store on Center Street a few years ago that involved a spilled can of paint and Richie taking the blame for Eddie as Mr. Hockstetter shouted their ears off and chased them out of the store.

Patrick looked up from his wax job as Mr. Hockstetter stomped across the driveway and shoved his hand in through the car window to silence the radio.

"Hey! I was listening to that!" Patrick yelled, flexing his fingers around the jar of wax in his hand.

“And I was trying to enjoy some goddamn peace and quiet after working my ass off all week.” Mr. Hockstetter snatched the half-burnt cigarette from Patrick’s lips and crushed it against the hood of the car. “You know your mother doesn’t like you littering the yard with your cigarette butts.”

Patrick’s nostrils flared as he stared at the ashy stain on his car. “You asshole! I just waxed that!”

Eddie flinched at the loud _thwack_ of Mr. Hockstetter’s palm connecting with the back of Patrick’s head. “Don’t you take that tone with me, boy. Or do you want me to take away the keys to this piece of junk?”

“It’s my car, you fucking fascist,” Patrick spat, rubbing at the back of his head. “Uncle Adrian left it to me, it says so in his will.”

“As long as it’s parked on _my_ driveway and you live under _my_ roof, you don’t own a goddamn thing.” Mr. Hockstetter gave Patrick’s head another whack and walked back to the house, missing the venomous glare Patrick aimed at him through the oily veil of his hair.

Eddie felt the skin under his collar prickle with goosebumps as he watched Patrick’s lip curl up in a quiet snarl. “Fucking asshole…” He wiped the ash off the hood of his car and lit another cigarette, but the stereo his father had turned off stayed silent.

Eddie knew what curiosity did to the cat and tried to back away from the fence, but the hem of his shorts got stuck in a low-hanging branch on the rose bush, one of the sharp thorns scratching a pink welt on the exposed skin of his upper thigh.

"Ow fuck!”

Patrick’s head snapped up and he blew out a cloud of smoke through his nostrils, his eyes narrowing into slits as he fixed them on the fence.

Eddie felt like one of those unlucky gazelles that ended up in the jaws of a predator in every nature documentary, ten seconds away from an impending attack. He tried to untangle himself from the stupid rose bush, tugging on the hem of his shorts until they finally ripped free and he went falling on his ass. He turned his eyes back to the fence and let out a startled squeak when he realized there was a pair of black boots in front of the loose board he’d been peeking through.

Patrick leaned his arms against the fence, the look on his pointed face unreadable. “You spying on me, Kaspbrak?”

Eddie shook his head, stumbling to his feet. “N-no! I was just, uh, I was...”

Patrick blew out a thick cloud of smoke straight into Eddie's face and flicked the ash from his cigarette on his sneakers. “Peeping through the fence like a little creep?”

Eddie flushed all the way up to his scalp. “I was just looking at your stupid car, okay?” he snapped, trying not to gag as he shook the slug of ash off of his shoe. “It’s kinda cool.”

“Oh yeah?” Patrick arched his brow and dragged his eyes over Eddie’s body in a way that made Eddie feel evaluated, like he was at Doctor Wilson’s office, about to be told that his growth chart was still dragging behind most boys his age. “What does a little kid like you know about cars? Are you even old enough to drive?”

“I am! Well, I would be if my mom let me get a learner’s permit.” Eddie felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment, aware that he sounded like a giant mama’s boy. Which he kind of was, against his will.

Patrick smiled like he knew exactly how controlling Sonia Kaspbrak could be. And he probably did, just like the rest of Derry. She definitely had a reputation and an uncanny ability to clear a room. 

“Yeah, that crazy bitch barely lets you leave the house.” Patrick reached into the pocket of his jeans, his gaze lingering on the tanlines on Eddie’s upper thighs as he spun his car keys around his finger. “What do you say I break you out of prison and take you for a little ride?”

Eddie blinked at the question. Was Patrick Hockstetter really offering him a ride in his Firebird? The same Patrick Hockstetter who’d threatened to set Eddie’s hair on fire with his makeshift flamethrower on the last day of school.

“There’s no way I’m taking a ride with you!”

“Come on, just around the block,” Patrick drawled, his smile a little too wide and tense at the edges.

Eddie knew he should say no, because if getting into a car with a stranger was dangerous, getting into a car with Patrick Hockstetter was downright suicidal. The guy would probably kidnap him and dissect his body.

But the damn Firebird with its sharp edges and glossy metal was so fucking beautiful...

“I’m supposed to stay home,” Eddie mumbled, kicking the toe of his sneaker against the fence. The automatic light above the porch would go off the moment he set foot on the walkway, alerting his mother to his escape attempt. “My Ma has a direct view of the front yard and she watches it like a hawk.”

“Jesus, kid, it sounds like she has you doing 25 to life.” Patrick crushed the butt of his cigarette on one of the rotting fence posts and reached over to slip his hands under Eddie’s armpits.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Eddie yelped, flailing his arms as he was lifted over the fence like a small sack of potatoes.

“Breaking you out of prison,” Patrick grinned. He dangled the keys in front of Eddie's freckled nose, wagging his eyebrows. “You gonna ride with me or not?”

Eddie was still trying to process the fact that he was on the other side of the fence - the forbidden side - while his mother watched her shows in the den, completely oblivious to Eddie going awol. He pursed his lips into a defiant pout, because yeah, maybe he _should_ accept Patrick’s offer and have a moment of actual fun during this miserable summer.

“Just around the block?” Eddie asked, taking a hesitant step towards Patrick’s Firebird. He thought he saw a strange flash of hunger in Patrick’s eyes, but it was gone before he could wonder about its meaning.

“Sure, kid, just around the block.”

Eddie climbed into the car, the leather of the seat butter smooth against his bare thighs. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of nicotine and faded new car smell from the little tree hanging under the rear view mirror, but everything else about the pristine interior told him that the car really was the apple of Patrick’s eye.

He fastened his seatbelt as Patrick backed out of the driveway, the rumble of the engine so loud that it resonated in his chest. They drove past familiar rows of houses and Eddie watched Patrick from the corner of his eye, ready to jump out of the door even at the risk of broken bones if he tried something funny.

There were a lot of rumors about the guy, all of them more disturbing than the last, whispers about the weird shit he did in the junkyard and how he’d branded Peter Moore with the lighter from his car like he was cattle, but Patrick kept his word, taking Eddie around the block and no further.

He pulled to the curb a safe distance away from Eddie’s house and drummed his fingers against the wheel. “Well? How was it? Better than your Mommy’s Pacer?”

To compare a classic like Patrick’s Firebird to the piece of junk Eddie’s mother had been driving for the past decade was almost an insult. Eddie ran his fingers against the gear stick and the sun-warmed leather of the dashboard, his heart pumping with genuine joy for the first time in weeks.

There was no way he could go home yet.

“Can we, um, can we go again?” Eddie asked, a little stunned by his own question.

Patrick tilted his head back and eyed Eddie down the length of his nose. “Well aren’t you a little rebel in the making,” he snorted, pressing his foot down on the accelerator.

They went around the block and then some. Patrick drove with reckless abandon, almost like he was the only person on the road, paying more attention to the way Eddie’s shorts were riding up his thighs than he did to the traffic.

“Are you color blind?” Eddie cried out as Patrick sped through a red light in front of Sally Mueller’s house. “That light was red!”

“Was it?” Patrick smirked, his eyes still glued to Eddie’s thighs.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but it was hard to deny that breaking the rules made him feel a little giddy.

They drove down Witcham Street and the downtown buildings gave way to fields and farm houses as they reached the outskirts of the city.

Patrick tapped his fingers against the gearstick, his half-burnt cigarette hanging loosely between his lips as he revved the engine. “So, you wanna see how fast this thing can go?”

Eddie’s stomach felt like a nest of ants as he stared at the empty strip of road. “Yeah?”

Patrick kicked his foot against the accelerator and the car shot down the road like the bird in the Roadrunner cartoons. Eddie watched the needle on the speedometer climb up, the roar of the engine penetrating his ear drums.

“Holy shit!”

His mother drove like it was Sunday every day of the week and even Richie was too afraid of damaging his dad’s Mercedes to go past the speed limit.

“Did you know this car was in Smokey and the Bandit?” Eddie asked, the words spilling out in an excited babble as he admired the massive cloud of dust they’d left behind through the side view mirror. “Though the car they used in the movie was actually a ‘76 model with front clips from a ‘77 model.”

Patrick’s lips pulled into an impressed smile around his cigarette. “Shit, Kaspbrak, you really do know your cars.”

Eddie beamed at the compliment and did his best not to inhale too much second-hand smoke. “My Ma doesn’t like the idea of me driving, but my dad was into cars and I still have a lot of his old magazines hidden away in the attic.” Eddie eyed the wheel under Patrick’s hands, his cheek dimpling with a hopeful little smile. “Um, do you think I could give it a try?”

“What? Driving?” Patrick let out an amused snort and stared at Eddie like he’d lost his mind. “Fuck no. I don’t even let Bowers drive my car.”

“Come on, there’s no traffic out here,” Eddie said, pointing at the empty dirt road that split through large acres of farmland. “Please?”

Patrick arched his brow and raked his eyes up and down Eddie’s body. “You really wanna drive, huh?”

“Yeah!” Eddie nodded, almost bouncing in his seat. “I promise I won’t drive us into a ditch or anything.”

Patrick crushed the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray, his mouth stretching into that familiar rattlesnake smile as he brought the car to a full stop. “Come on then,” he said, patting his palms against his thighs.

Eddie blinked at Patrick, his brows dropping into a confused frown. “Uh…”

“You wanna drive my car, you climb into my lap, Kaspbrak. That’s the only way it’s happening.”

“What? No way! That’s embarrassing as hell.” Eddie might be small enough to squeeze between Patrick’s chest and the steering wheel, but getting on his lap would be as smart as sticking your hand into a viper’s nest.

“Suit yourself, kid,” Patrick said, shrugging his wiry shoulders. “Bet you’ll have just as much fun driving your mom’s Pacer if she ever lets you get a license.”

Eddie eyed the dashboard, his eyes roaming over the meters and the shiny gold-plated bezel. If he turned down Patrick’s offer, the chances of him driving a car like this in the future were slim to none.

His entire face was hot with humiliation as he unbuckled his seat belt. “Fine… I’ll do it.”

Patrick licked his lips, smiling like he’d swallowed a fucking canary as Eddie threw his leg over the gear stick and climbed into his lap.

“I- I can’t reach the pedals with my legs spread out like this,” Eddie complained, knocking his sneakers against Patrick’s shins.

“I’ll handle the pedals, you just focus on steering, pipsqueak,” Patrick murmured, his moist breath fanning against Eddie’s earlobe.

Eddie clutched the wheel and felt the way Patrick’s legs shifted under his thighs as he pressed down on the accelerator. He knew Patrick was watching him through the rear view mirror, his murky blue eyes lit with the same hunger Eddie had glimpsed on the driveway.

“Yeah, just like that,” Patrick nodded, settling his palms against Eddie’s thighs. “Nice and easy.”

Eddie jumped at the uninvited touch, his hands slipping on the steering wheel as he glanced at Patrick over his shoulder. “What are you--”

The car swerved left and right, the dust from the road billowing around the wheels.

“Hey, hey, keep your eyes on the road now,” Patrick scolded, giving Eddie’s thighs a little pinch. “You don’t wanna know what it’ll cost you if you crash my car.”

Eddie blew out a wheezy breath, his grip on the wheel almost white-knuckled as Patrick pushed his shorts higher up on his thighs, his fingers like spider legs.

They drove past the Hanlon farm and Eddie’s stomach lurched with shame when he saw Mike by the barn, guiding a group of cows to the field. His friends would probably send him to Juniper Hill if they knew he was driving around with Patrick Hockstetter, that he was sitting in his fucking lap.

The shame in his belly turned into a shock of discomfort when he realized Patrick was sneaking his fingers under the hem of his shorts. “H-hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing, Hockstetter?” Eddie yelped, almost steering them into a ditch.

“ _Easy_ ,” Patrick murmured, flicking his tongue against Eddie’s ear.

He steered the car to the dusty curb and pulled the keys out of the ignition. Eddie’s heart hammered in his ears like an anvil as the engine went dead, the silence that followed sucking all the air out of the car. There was nothing but farmland for miles, the road they were on just an empty strip of dirt in both directions. If Eddie was going to get chopped to pieces, it was probably going to happen in the next five minutes. He eyed the lighter under the radio, his hairline prickling with sweat as he pictured the scalding plug leaving a permanent mark on his skin.

Patrick sank his fingers into the layer of fat on Eddie’s inner thighs, squeezing and fondling him like Eddie was some dirty hookup he’d picked up from a truckstop.

“Patrick, d-don't.” No one had ever touched Eddie so inappropriately. Fuck. He barely touched himself down there unless his mother had knocked herself out with her sleeping pills.

Patrick plastered his palm against Eddie’s belly and held him still as he rolled his hips against his ass. “Relax, kid. We’ll just have a little fun, okay?”

Eddie wondered what counted as fun to someone like Patrick Hockstetter and he got his answer when he felt the shape of Patrick’s half-hard cock against his left ass cheek. He tried to shift away from it, but the arm around his hips pulled tight like a boa constrictor.

“Please, Patrick, I- I don’t like this.”

“Sure you do,” Patrick insisted, grinning at Eddie through the mirror as he slid his hand between his thighs and groped him through his shorts. “See how hard your little cock is getting for me.”

And Jesus fucking Christ, Patrick was right. Eddie was popping a boner from being felt up in the middle of the road by Patrick Hockstetter.

Eddie bit his cheek to snuff out the moan building in his throat as Patrick snaked his long fingers under the hem of his shorts and nudged them against his balls. “Bet these are full,” Patrick said, stroking Eddie through his underwear. “Should I help you empty them?”

“No…” Eddie shook his head, but he knew he was starting to make a mess in his shorts, the sticky spot under the heel of Patrick’s hand almost wet enough to seep through the nylon.

“Sluts like you always say no,” Patrick hooked his thumb around the waistband of Eddie’s shorts and stretched it away from his belly to peek inside, “but you’re already wetter than any girl I’ve had in this car.”

Eddie felt his cheeks burn with gut-gripping arousal as he glanced down and saw his cock straining against the front of his briefs, the tip red like a rose petal.

“Look at that...” Patrick shoved his hand into Eddie’s shorts and rubbed the pad of his thumb against the bead of slick pearling in the slit. “I bet you have the tightest little cunt, too.” Eddie’s face burned with humiliation as Patrick nudged his legs wider apart and dipped his fingers between his cheeks. “Maybe I should show you how to play with it.”

Eddie had no idea what Patrick’s preferences were or if he’d ever done something like this with a guy, but the sudden blunt pressure on his hole finally snapped him out of his haze.

“You can’t just put your fingers in there!” Eddie gasped, pulling Patrick’s hand out of his shorts. “They’re too dry.”

Patrick pressed his thumb against Eddie’s bottom lip and rubbed the blunt edge of his nail against his teeth. “You can get them wet with spit if you like.”

Eddie swatted Patrick’s hand away, gagging at the thought. “There’s no fucking way I’m putting your nasty fingers in my mouth, Hockstetter. Do you have any idea how much bacteria there is under your nails and in the grooves of your knuckles and I bet you don’t wash your ha--”

Patrick closed his hand around Eddie’s chin and dug his fingers into his round cheeks, his eyes flashing with something Eddie wasn’t comfortable examining too closely. “You got a better idea, then?”

Eddie's throat clicked with his nervous swallowing, his mouth sticking out like it belonged to a goldfish. He knew Patrick could force him, could turn his touches cruel and painful, but he was choosing to play nice - for now.

“I-I do,” Eddie gasped, tugging on the zipper of his fanny pack. The threat of violence disappeared as Patrick loosened his hold, his eyes curious as he watched Eddie open his fanny pack.

“Holy shit, you have a small pharmacy in there,” Patrick laughed, letting out a whistle at the assorted collection of vitamins, band aids, wet wipes and anything Sonia Kaspbrak deemed necessary for Eddie to carry around when he wasn’t under her watchful eye. “Maybe we should play doctor sometime. I could give you a thorough medical.”

Eddie’s cock blurted out another drop of slick into his underwear at the thought of allowing Patrick to inspect him in places even Doctor Wilson hadn’t touched. “I’m pretty sure you lack the qualifications.” He reached into the pocket where he used to keep his inhaler and handed Patrick a small jar of vaseline.

Patrick gave the lotion inside a curious sniff. “Yeah, this’ll get you nice and wet.” He pushed Eddie against the wheel to give himself room to work on his belt and zipper, the slick sound of his fist telling Eddie he’d pulled his cock out.

Eddie stole a quick look over his shoulder and sank his teeth into his bottom lip as his belly lurched with arousal. He’d never seen another guy’s dick this close, definitely not one as hard as Patrick’s, poking out of a nest of dark hair and so much bigger than Eddie’s.

Patrick dipped his fingers into the jar and reached between Eddie’s legs to slather thick globs of lotion over his tanlines.

“Wait, why are you spreading that stuff on my legs?”

“You’ll see,” Patrick grinned. He pulled Eddie back on his lap like a little doll, arranging his legs until his thighs were pushed together. And maybe Eddie really was a slut, because his mouth flooded with saliva as he watched Patrick push his cock between the greasy fold of his thighs. He dug his nails into his palms at the sudden, disgusting urge to reach out and touch, because gross!

“You ready to get your pussy wet?” Patrick drawled, pushing his hand back into Eddie’s shorts. It was a tight fit, the cool titanium of Patrick’s rings digging into Eddie’s plump cheeks as he slipped two vaseline-slick fingers between them.

And was Eddie really going to let Patrick touch him like this? Force him open and do all the lewd things guys in his PE class bragged about doing to their girlfriends when they took them to Makeout Point on the weekends.

“You a virgin, Kaspbrak?” Patrick asked. He tapped the pads of his fingers against Eddie’s hole and dipped them inside, fast like a snake bite. The burn of it made Eddie flinch and Patrick dug his nails into the roll of fat on Eddie’s hip to keep him still. “Only a virgin would have a cunt this tight.”

“Shut up,” Eddie mumbled, his cheeks blotchy like he’d been crying for hours. “I don’t have a…” He couldn’t even bring himself to repeat the word, so dirty and vulgar.

Patrick’s laughter was laced with something lecherous as he slipped his hand under Eddie’s t-shirt, groping him like he really was a girl. “Sure you do. The sweetest little cunt in all of Derry.” He spread his fingers in Eddie’s hole, stretching the tender rim around his knuckles. “Would you like it if I climbed up to your window after your mommy kisses you goodnight? Spread you open and fuck this little honey pot so good that you’ll beg me to come back.”

“No!” Eddie wailed, his cock leaking against the heel of Patrick’s hand as he pictured a shadowy figure in his room, the clink of a belt buckle hitting the floor and the mattress dipping under Patrick’s weight as he climbed into Eddie’s bed and mounted him. “I’d… I’d lock my window.”

Patrick’s chest shook with laughter as he fucked his fingers deeper into Eddie’s hole. “I think we both know that’s a lie when you’re already riding my fingers like a little slut.”

Eddie shook his head, about to protest, but the words got stuck in his mouth when Patrick’s fingers brushed against something tender and sensitive.

“W-what is that?” Eddie gasped, trembling against Patrick’s chest.

“What’s what?”

“That!” Eddie clutched at Patrick’s wrist, his eyes rolling back in his head as the coil of pleasure in his belly wound a little tighter.

“Well, would you look at that…” Patrick watched Eddie through the mirror, his eyes burning with dark mania as he jammed his fingers against _something_.

“Oh fu-uck,” Eddie wailed, his head lolling against Patrick’s shoulder as his cock drooled out a drop of come.

“Come on, make a mess for me,” Patrick murmured, hammering his fingers in and out of Eddie’s ass. “Squirt a load into your little shorts.”

And Eddie couldn’t believe he was about to come with a pair of dirty fingers in his ass, but every little moan he’d managed to bite back spilled out from his lungs as he fell apart in Patrick’s lap. He blinked down at his lap as Patrick pulled his hand out, the green nylon of his shorts soaked through like he’d pissed himself.

“Jesus Christ, Kaspbrak. How long had you been storing that?” Patrick laughed, waving his jizz-covered hand in front of Eddie’s face. “You gotta empty your reserves, baby.”

Eddie pressed his knuckles against his lips as he watched thick globs of his own come roll down Patrick’s palm, the musky stench of it stinging in his nostrils.

Patrick shoved his hand between Eddie’s thighs and began to stroke his cock, the squelch of vaseline and come reminding Eddie of some disgusting pus-covered horror that had haunted the edge of his memories since the summer of ‘89.

“Your thighs are like butter... ” Patrick moaned, bouncing Eddie in his lap as he fucked into his fist. “Look at that fucking jiggle.”

Eddie didn’t wanna look anymore, his chest heavy with guilt as his mother’s old lectures about AIDS began to rattle in his head.

_You can catch it almost anywhere, Eddie-bear!_

“I’m gonna come all over them,” Patrick panted, throwing his head back as he shot his load into the fold of Eddie’s thighs and the giant heart between I and Derry on the front of his shirt.

_One drop of filth from those dirty men is all it takes!_

Eddie jerked against Patrick’s chest, his eyes wide with horror. “Eugh! You're getting it all over me!”

“I gotta mark you up, baby,” Patrick sneered, dragging the hot slip of his tongue over Eddie's freckled cheek.

“ _Oh my God!_ ” Eddie squealed and scrambled out of Patrick’s lap, rubbing his knuckles against his cheek as he stared at the wet splatters on his shirt.

Patrick laughed at Eddie’s panicked wheezing. “Relax, kid, it’s jizz, not battery acid.”

“And it’s all over me!” Eddie's eyes welled up with tears as another foul memory surfaced from the recess of his mind.

Grey water, oily vomit, rotting flesh and _you want me to blow you, Eddie?_

Eddie shoved his hands into his fanny pack, fumbling for an inhaler he knew he hadn’t carried in almost four years. He tore open a packet of wet wipes and scrubbed it against his cheek and thighs, but the come stains on his shirt had already absorbed into the cotton.

“Fuck! It’s not coming off!”

The smile on Patrick’s lips fell away and his eyebrows pinched together in annoyance as he took in the mounting panic in Eddie’s watery eyes. “I thought your mother was supposed to be the crazy one…” He rolled down the window and wrapped his fingers around the hem of Eddie’s shirt, yanking it over his head so fast that Eddie barely had time to realize what had happened when his shirt had flown into the ditch.

“There. You can stop your wheezing now.”

Eddie blinked at Patrick, the sudden shock of losing his shirt pushing through the panic and clearing his airways. He glanced down and smacked his palms against his bare chest to cover himself. "I can't go home without a shirt!"

“Jesus, you’re hard to please.” Patrick raked his fingers through his hair, his jaw tight as he pulled his own button-up off his shoulders and shoved it against Eddie’s chest.

Eddie held Patrick’s shirt in his hands like it was radioactive, and it sure as hell wasn't clean, but at least it wasn't covered in jizz. It smelled much manlier than the pharmacy brand fabric softener that always clung to Eddie’s own clothes and he fought the disgusting urge to bury his nose in the collar as he pulled it over his shoulders.

Patrick turned the car around at the crossroads between the Bowers farm and what used to be a road to the swamp where they found the bodies of five missing children in ‘61. The mood between them had shifted and Eddie took note of the disinterested look in Patrick’s eyes as he drove them back to town, almost like Eddie wasn’t even in the car with him.

Eddie stared out of the window, his chest heavy with shame over what he’d done, how much he’d enjoyed it, and how little he regretted it.

“Thanks for the ride, I guess,” Eddie mumbled as they pulled to the Hockstetters’ driveway. He yanked on the hem of his shorts and tried to ignore how dirty and sore he felt as he climbed out of the car, Patrick’s shirt hanging off his shoulders like a small tent.

“Any time, kid,” Patrick smirked, lighting another cigarette as he circled around the car and gave Eddie’s fanny pack a little shake. “Let me know if you wanna play doctor sometime.”

  
  


***

**Author's Note:**

> Patrick feminizes Eddie and uses the words 'pussy' and 'cunt', Eddie's consent is dubious, Patrick has an abusive father.


End file.
